


uninvited, we'll stay if we want

by peachperson



Category: Parahumans Series - Wildbow
Genre: Alternate Universe - High School, Alternate Universe - No Powers, Gen, Slice of Life
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-11-24
Updated: 2019-11-24
Packaged: 2021-02-26 07:21:00
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,721
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21549796
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/peachperson/pseuds/peachperson
Summary: Newly-minted American high school student Kenta Takahashi makes friends, joins a band, struggles to pass Biology, stops a bomb threat, threatens white supremacists, and tests the old adage that high school will be the best years of his life.A spinoff of Life Bends Down.
Comments: 3
Kudos: 17





	uninvited, we'll stay if we want

**Author's Note:**

  * Inspired by [Life Bends Down](https://archiveofourown.org/works/13796073) by [CPericardium](https://archiveofourown.org/users/CPericardium/pseuds/CPericardium). 



> A speshul thenks to my betas Waerloga and Grizzityuck, and Peri for writing Life Bends Down in the first place. <3
> 
> The title is derived from a lyric of "Meanwhile, Rick James..." by CAKE.

“You are certain this is a good idea,” Kenta said uneasily.

Lee’s right hand was poised to knock on the door, but the statement seemed to give him pause.

“Well…” His gaze wandered before snapping back to Kenta, and the hand about to knock dropped to his side. “Saying it’s a ‘good idea’ is a little reductive.” 

Kenta scowled, partially because the other boy was being evasive, partially because he had only a vague idea of what  _ reductive _ meant. “What does that mean?”

Lee shifted the white box bearing the Krispy Kreme logo under his arm and sighed. “It means if I called this a good idea, I’d be reducing a complicated topic to something that’s… black and white. You know what I mean?”

He considered the explanation. “You are doing this even though you consider it complicated, and you do not even have a certainty in your plan.”

“ Jesus, Kenta, you make it sound like I’m trying to defuse a hostage situation,” Lee said exasperatedly. “I’m just bringing her donuts as a default because I don’t know her emotional state. It’s not that deep.”

“You know she is very upset,” Kenta retorted, turning and facing his friend full-on. “And you know how she acts. I think you are wrong, Lee. I think it is not deep  _ enough _ .”

“Don’t even — of  _ course _ I know how she is. I was with her from the start of the school year. I know exactly how she can be when she’s pissy, which is why I bought the donuts. It’s a deescalation tactic.”

We  _ bought the donuts _ , Kenta thought sourly. He’d paid half. “But you are not confident.”

“Well, excuse me if I’m not entirely confident in dealing with her when she’s pissed off!” Lee hissed, giving the door a nervous look. “She’s —”

The door opened, and Kenta’s heart sank.

He had hoped it would be Atsuhiro. Atsuhiro seemed perpetually in a state of Buddha-like serenity, generally residing in the office pecking away at his laptop. Sometimes, if they came over around dinner, he would be in the kitchen, wearing a white apron and chopping vegetables with efficiency. When he laid eyes on Lee or Kenta, he would smile, say hello, and ask them how their day was going in a way that never felt obligatory. Atsuhiro was the Japanese politeness that Kenta found he was missing.

But it was Carla who stood in the doorway.

She was never “Atsuhiro’s wife” in Kenta’s mind; Atsuhiro was “Carla’s husband”. Though considerably shorter than both Kenta and Lee, barely over five feet, the presence she exerted made her seem to tower over them. Her blonde bob was trimmed and styled in such a way that there was never a hair out of place, her mouth was a thin red line, and no matter how wide she smiled it never seemed to reach her pale blue eyes.

She wasn’t smiling now. 

“Hi, Carla,” Lee greeted, his face a mask of bland politeness. Kenta followed suit, habitually inclining his head to her. “Is Reina home?”

There was a very noticeable moment where Carla did not respond in that businesslike, synthetically friendly way she did every time they came over. Expressionless, her gaze flicked between Kenta and Lee, as if deciding which of them was more worthy of the full force of her disapproval.

Her lips turned up slightly at the corners. Kenta would hesitate to call it a smile. “Why don’t the both of you come inside.”

They did, passing through the entrance hallway and to the kitchen, where, mercifully, Atsuhiro stood at the counter, cutting a slab of meat. He looked up when the three of them entered and offered a much more genuine smile, though to Kenta’s eyes it looked slightly strained. “Hello, Lee, Kenta.”

“Reina’s not speaking to anybody,” Carla said briskly, heedless of her husband’s cordiality. 

The words felt pointed, accusatory. Kenta looked to Lee, whose pasted-on smile turned sheepish. “Ah… yeah. I’m aware. We were just thinking we’d come over, offer some comfort. Try to get her to open up.”

Carla exhaled sharply through her nose, opening a cupboard and getting out a steel bowl. “She won’t open up to me. Don’t take this personally, Lee, but I doubt she’ll open up to either of you.”

“Carla,” Atsuhiro said gently.

“What?” she snapped, head whipping around to look at her husband. “I’m her  _ mother _ .”

“And they’re her friends,” Atsuhiro pointed out.

There was not a lot Kenta truly feared, but the look on Carla’s face was enough to strike terror into the heart of any man. Like a flash of lightning it passed as soon as it came, but he knew what he’d seen. Carla turned once again to the two of them, gaze steely.

“I’m sorry,” Lee spoke, gentle. “I know how it feels to… not be able to get through to a family member. Reina loves you, she really does, but I think this is something she’d prefer to… open up to her peers about.”

Kenta tensed, waiting for the blowback, but it didn’t come. Somehow, Carla’s expression softened fractionally;  _ rock _ rather than  _ steel _ . How the hell did he do it? If there was the Dog Whisperer and the Horse Whisperer, then Kenta was certain Lee was the White Woman Whisperer. 

“Fine,” she said, waving them off as she opened the fridge. “Go talk to her. God knows  _ I _ can’t do anything for her nowadays. And don’t let her ruin her appetite with those donuts.”

Neither of them wasted any time in leaving.

They ascended the stairs to the second floor. The sounds of bass-heavy music filtered down the upstairs hallway, the volume intensifying as they approached Reina’s bedroom door. Lee came to the door first, lingering uncomfortably for a second, then rapping on the wood.

“I  _ said _ I don’t want to  _ talk _ , Mother!” came a shrill voice from behind the door.

“Reina, it’s me and Kenta.”

Pause. “Fuck off.”

Kenta raised his eyebrows at Lee in a what-did-you-expect look, and Lee scowled in return.

“Reina,” Lee said, his tone light, enticing. “I brought Krispy Kreme.”

No response. Then, the music turned down. A second later, the door opened.

Kenta’s first thought was that Reina looked like a wreck. Her jaw-length black hair was in disarray, strands stuck around puffy red eyes. Her mouth was caught between a scowl and a pout, lips occasionally quivering with unexpressed emotion. She looked between the two of them, as if deciding which of them was more worthy of the full force of her wrath.

Her eyes fell on the box underneath Lee’s arm. She grabbed for it, but Lee was faster, and he lifted it out of her reach.

“You have to let us in to get the donuts,” Lee chided, wagging his finger. “I’m not your Krispy Kreme whore.”

Reina’s scowl deepened. “Suck a cock, Tanaka.”

“Tanaka, huh?” Lee’s tone became more sympathetic. “That bad, huh?”

“Yeah,” Reina said venomously, turning and going deeper into her room. “That bad.”

Kenta and Lee exchanged glances, and Lee shrugged. They followed her inside, and Kenta shut the door behind him.

The room looked like a hurricane had torn through it. Vinyl sleeves were scattered on the floor near the shelf that held Reina’s record player. One drawer of her dresser was open, and clothes were scattered on the floor. A pillow, half-relieved of its case, leaned against the wall. Upon closer inspection, a framed art print was behind the pillow, implying that it was the victim of the pillow being thrown.

At Reina’s desk was a laptop from which industrial beats blared. Next to it was… Kenta couldn’t tell what it was. He approached the desk as Reina sat heavily on the bed.

It was some sort of wire-festooned contraption, springs and triggers contained in a shell of black and grey plastic that seemed to have been cobbled together from various household electronics. The whole thing with its parts splayed out was about the size of a shoe box, but looked considerably more dangerous.

“Reina,” Kenta began, looking across the room at her. “What is this?”

“Whatcha looking at?” Lee asked, peering over Kenta’s shoulder at the experiment.

“Oh, that?” Reina said, and despite the thickness to her voice, her tone was perfectly calm, even genial. “That’s a bomb.”

**CHAPTER ONE: I GUESS THAT’S WHY THEY CALL IT DOMESTIC TERRORISM**

There was a moment where nobody in the room spoke, and the music blasted unimpeded in the silence.

_ Haters act so fucking weird, _

_ Try to stain this atmosphere, _

_ But they can't ‘cuz it’s way too sheer, _

_ How to make a hater disappear... _

“Oh,” Lee said. Kenta looked at him, and found the other boy’s face contorted in a tight grin. “Oh, I get it. You’re bullshitting.”

“I’m not fucking bullshitting,” Reina snapped suddenly. Kenta’s eyes flicked to the guts of the bomb on the desk, then back to her. Her eyes were wide, alight with mania, and her fingers dug into the fabric of the sheets. “I’m sick of that cunt Marshalls trying to —trying to  _ undermine me! _ ” Her voice rose on the last words; Reina lifted fists that clutched the comforter, as if she were Zeus collecting lightning in his palms. “She’s always hated me. Always wanted to trip me up! She knows who Mom is, she wants to make me look awful to her!” Tears began to trickle down her face.

“Reina,” Lee spoke, his voice low and gentle. “I am positive Ms. Marshalls doesn’t hate you.”

“Bullfuck!” Reina screeched, jumping off the bed and flinging the comforter off the mattress. “She gave me a snotty fucking look when she handed my paper back. She  _ knew! _ And Lee, I am the Andromeda galaxy away from bullshitting—” she stalked around the room, gesticulating madly, “—when I say I’m going to blow the English classroom to kingdom come. I’ll put it in her desk before third period, the bitch won’t even know what hit her.”

Kenta was surprised by how unsurprised he was at the fact that Reina had just confessed to planning what was essentially a domestic terrorist attack. Cultural differences, he mused darkly. In Japan, students who couldn’t handle the stresses of academia were usually found hanging by the neck in their closet a week later. In America, a disaffected youth would just buy a gun. Or, in this case, make a bomb.

“That’s a… terrible idea. Look, I know you’re upset right now, and you’re  _ allowed _ to be upset, but I think it’s time to sit down and just, uh, think about this rationally—”

“Rationally? _ Rationally! _ I’ve been thinking rationally about this ever since I started making it!”

“Reina,” Kenta said calmly. “You cannot bomb Ms. Marshalls’ desk.”

Lee gave him an incredulous look. Kenta wondered if it was because of the plainness of his statement, or because of the tone he’d delivered it in.

For her part, Reina stared at him as if shocked he’d even dared to question her logic. “Who’s gonna stop me?  _ You? _ ” The stress she placed on the last word was daring.  _ I dare you to try it. I dare you to stop me. I double-dare you to give me a reason. _

“I would not stop you,” Kenta continued, pulling up the desk chair and sitting down in it. Lee’s expression passed from incredulous to baffled. Kenta pressed the pause/play button on Reina’s computer, and the music stopped. “But you would not be a very good criminal.”

“ _ Kenta, _ ” Lee whispered, eyes wide with trepidation.

“Up yours, Takahashi,” Reina’s lip curled, but there was less poison in her voice than there had been previously. “Why would I not be a good criminal?”

“AP Chemistry is not going to make you a bomber,” Kenta said dryly. “You would probably screw up the bomb.”

Reina’s mouth opened, then shut. “Are you questioning my aptitude?” The words would have sounded dangerous, were they not coming from a narcissistic fourteen-year-old who had all the muscle mass of a twig.

“No,” Kenta said regardless. The last thing he needed was for her ego to be bruised enough to potentially speed up the process of Ms. Marshalls’ demise. “The bomb looks good.” Reina looked briefly surprised, and then smirked. “But even in the military they screw up making weapons. And this looks fragile.” He gestured at the guts of the explosive on the desk. “It could go wrong and hurt you.”

“Oh my god,” she said, rolling her eyes. “You’re not trying to moralize at me, you’re doing something worse. You’re becoming my father.”

“I am being realistic.”

“This is all assuming you make it past security,” Lee mumbled.

“What was that, Tanaka?”

“Nothing.”

“Bullfuck it was nothing.”

“Fine. I said ‘this is all assuming you make it past security’.”

Reina’s expression went blank. “What?”

“The—security checkpoints,” Lee frowned, as if confused. “You do go through those, right? There’s no special gifted kid route around them?”

There was a very long pause. Reina slowly sat back down on the bed.

Kenta gave Lee a look that said  _ she forgot about security. _

Lee gave Kenta a look that replied  _ yeah but you can’t  _ say _ that, she’d go ballistic. _

Kenta’s brows raised sharply in a way that spoke  _ she’s not already going ballistic? _ Lee rolled his eyes as though articulating  _ yes, but work with me here. _

“Reina,” Lee spoke up gently. “Why did Ms. Marshalls give you a low mark?”

A tableau of agony blossomed across her features. “How the fuck am I supposed to know?” Reina choked, crossing her arms over her chest. “A-all I saw when I looked at the paper was a—a—” Kenta saw her eyes glitter with unshed tears.

Lee came to sit beside her on the bed, setting the box of donuts on his lap. He opened it, a silent invitation. Reina’s face crumpled, and she began to sob. Wordlessly, Lee placed an arm around her shoulders.

Kenta rose from the desk chair and plucked a box of tissues off the dresser top. He stood in front of Reina, presenting the box to her like he was a particularly underdressed manservant. She snatched a tissue from the box and blew her nose loudly.

“An  _ F _ ,” the girl blubbered, lowering the tissue from her face. A string of snot trailed from her nose. “I got an F, and I spent  _ fucking hours _ on that essay.  _ Hours _ pouring over  _ Catcher In The Rye _ ,  _ hours _ phrasing and re-phrasing my introduction and conclusion,  _ hours _ trying to come up with body paragraphs… all for  _ jack shit _ .”

“Aw, jeez, Reina,” Lee said sympathetically, like she hadn’t just threatened to blow up her English teacher. “Bring it in, bring it in.” Continuing to weep, she wrapped her arms around him, burying her snot-soaked face in the crook of Lee’s shoulder. Kenta stood there awkwardly, unsure what to do with himself. He supposed it was a testament to how broken-up Reina was that sympathy directed at her was not a match to a gas spill.

With a sniffle and a final, choked sob, Reina receded from Lee’s arms and sat, staring at her knees. Kenta glanced surreptitiously over his shoulder at the desk, the unfinished bomb still resting dangerously on the surface. He’d recently learned the art of the mixed metaphor from Marissa, a girl in his own English class, and one turn of phrase she’d used had stuck with him;  _ I’ll burn that bridge when I get to it. _

It was rather apt. He looked back to Reina, who was rubbing her temples.

“Where is the paper?” Kenta asked. Lee looked at him with eyes wide and made a throat-cutting motion.

Reina glanced up with a frown. “It’s—in my bag. Fuck do you care?”

“I want to see what Marshalls said,” Kenta replied simply, beelining for the red and black backpack on the floor near the door.

His logic was simple—for the most part, when he did something wrong in school, the teachers would make notes telling him what they would have improved. Elaborate on this point, be more concise with this, you’re looking in the wrong spot for answers. He imagined, though he had never met her, that Ms. Marshalls would be much the same, and Reina had simply declined to notice it.

“Kenta, just leave it be for a second,” Lee almost pleaded, and Kenta ignored him. At the very bottom of the bag’s depths, crumpled and flattened by lunchbox and pencil case, he discovered the paper. Kenta unfolded it.

**_F_ **

_ Reina, your writing is very good but I think you’ve missed the point of the assignment. To prepare for the English final, I wanted an essay about one of the books that was decided on,  _ Lord of the Flies _ or  _ The Outsiders _ , and choosing from one of the essay topics. I think your essay would be good but I can’t give you a passing grade because it wouldn’t be passable in finals. Please see me at lunch and we can talk about a good time to rewrite it so it meets grade standards. _

“Does she say I’m a stupid cunt?” Reina said dully.

“You did the wrong assignment.”

“ _ What? _ ”

“You were not supposed to write an essay about  _ Catcher in the Rye _ ,” Kenta said bluntly, turning to face her as he stood. “Marshalls is letting you rewrite it.”

Reina’s face twisted into a mask of fury. “You’ve gotta be absolutely _ fucking _ me—give me that!” She clambered off the bed and snatched the paper from Kenta’s hand, pacing as she read. Lee looked helplessly between them both, the box of donuts still open on his lap. Reina’s left eye twitched as she scanned the message. Her grip tightened on the paper, and Kenta thought for a moment she was going to tear it.

She opened her hands and let the paper drop, arms falling to her sides. Lee seemed to be preparing for the inevitable reignition of fury, but it didn’t come. Instead, Reina sat back down on the bed beside Lee, head in her hands.

“I think if I eat a donut right now I’m gonna become a fuckin’ raisin. That’s how goddamn thirsty I am,” she said, subdued.

Nobody spoke for a long moment.

“Well…” Lee said nervously. “Want me to get you a glass of water?”

“Yeah. Actually, could you fill up my water bottle? It’s in the side pocket of my backpack. Thanks, Lee.”

A thank you, from Reina Matsumoto? She must have been really burnt out. Lee grabbed the bottle from the bag and fixed Kenta with a look he couldn’t place as he left the room.

Reina put her face in her hands, and Kenta sat next to her. He plucked a cheesecake donut from the Krispy Kreme box and took a bite out of it. It was ludicrously sweet, as most American-made pastries were, and Reina looked up with a frown.

“Those are my donuts.” It wasn’t said with malice.

“They are for sharing.”

“What kind did you get?”

“Our favourites. Cheesecake, sour cream, lemon, chocolate filling, cherry pie, and chocolate raspberry filling.”

“Holy shit, you went all out,” Reina said, eyes widening. “Musta been a whole paycheck.”

“Lee and I split the bill.”

Silence for a moment. Kenta put the donut back in the box.

“On Monday, I’m gonna go in and see Marshalls.” Reina’s voice was bland.

“Are you.”

“I am. In fact, I’ll do you one better and email her about it.” A beat. “After I… clean all this.”

Kenta observed the carnage of the room. “That is a good idea.”

More silence. “Were you going to put a bomb in her desk for real?” he asked.

Her expression could almost be classified as nervous. “I—shit, I don’t know. Maybe I would’ve. I could get away with it.”

Kenta gave her the most scornful look he could muster. “You’re an idiot. You did not even think of security, and you thought you could get away with it?”

“You’re lucky I don’t have the energy to test that bomb right now, Takahashi,” Reina snapped, pointing a finger at him. “I could sneak in a window. Or EMP the checkpoints.”

“You could not reach the window.”

“Oh, ha ha, short jokes, look at the comedy chops on this guy. Try not to furiously masturbate over what a zinger that one was, Booboo the clown.” It was tired-sounding, but it was the Reina banter he’d come to be familiar with. Despite himself, he smiled, and she began to snicker.

Lee shouldered open the door with a full water bottle in one hand and a glass of water in the other, and bore witness to the both of them chuckling like idiots. “I see the mood’s lightened while I was gone.”

“The mood was always light,” Reina raised her hands in a defensively. “I keep the mood light everywhere I go.”

“Yeah. Light like a flashbang,” Lee said sardonically. “You guys got into the donuts already? Shit, pass me a cherry pie.”

“Carla does not want us to ruin our appetite.”

“Fuck our appetites. Donut time,” Lee declared, plucking the box from behind the two of them and sitting lotus position on the floor. Kenta slid off the bed and sat near him, and Reina followed suit.

To Kenta’s surprise, Reina abstained from Krispy Kreme, sipping water while Lee scarfed the donut down. “Alright,” he said, licking a drop of cherry filling from a finger. “about the room.”

Reina rolled her eyes. “Yes, mother, I know it’s a shitpile. I’ll clean it up when you two schmucks leave.”

Again, Kenta found himself eyeing the bomb on the table.

“Actually, you’re not,” Lee brought down his clasped hands to point at Reina. “Because we’re gonna do a little collaborative cleaning.”

“Fuck me, ‘collaborative cleaning’?” Reina said incredulously. “Did you learn that one in group?”

“Bingo. Just because you think of the techniques I learned in group as ‘pussy hippie shit’ doesn’t mean it is, because this time, you don’t have to do all the cleaning.”

“Yeah, I’m aware of what collaborative means.”

“Point is,” Lee said, standing smoothly, “doing menial tasks together strengthens group bonds and builds character, so says Calvin’s dad.”

“Very Japanese,” Kenta mused aloud.

“Right? See, Reina, you’ve lost touch with your roots.” Lee grinned.

“Both of you fuckin’ suck,” Reina groused.

**Author's Note:**

> The song from Reina's laptop is Takyon by Death Grips.
> 
> I've never actually been to Krispy Kreme, nor have I received a letter grade. You can find Krispy Kreme places in Canada (there isn't one in my city, however), they're just not as ubiquitous as they are in the States, so I had to do research on what kind of donuts they actually sell.


End file.
